


I Took a Pill

by JacksWild



Series: If Songs Told Our Stories [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Drinking, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Graphic Language, M/M, Sadness, Songfic, alocholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacksWild/pseuds/JacksWild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with incriminating words. Anger deeply held, seeking satiation in being verbally released in the middle of ire and resentment. It began with mutual dislike of crowds, throngs of worshippers, missed anxiety and heartfelt thanks shared in front of the masses. It continued in moments of passing, a curt nod, a subtle smirk, a diligent avoidance of eye contact. It ended with a fumbling kiss on a parapet looking over the ministry atrium on a night of yet another ball, drunken and lost in the could be and if only. A whispered name, "lily...", by a man far enough along to mix up regret and hope. And a horrified look of a man not drunk enough to ignore the stab of disappointment lancing his heart. A quick stumble back, a grunt of pain... And the Saviour of the Wizarding World, disappearing. Leaving a confused and disgruntled War Battered Hero to his bleak and dark thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Took a Pill

**Author's Note:**

> Now for Harry. A troubled, powerful, lost and longing man. 
> 
> The songfic was inspired by I Took a Pill in Ibiza (Seeb remix is good but the original would fit this one.)
> 
> The angst is real.

I Took a Pill in Ibiza

I cant remember the last time I looked at a watch, the clock, time a construct I don’t allow myself to think about. But I remember that night. I remember that night, every time that night rolls around. I do everything I can to run from it, to hide, to shed the anger, anxiety, frustration… I haven’t succeeded yet. 

I will.

I left, I’ve been gone so long now, that I am almost positive that you’ve forgotten that night. That one mistake. I opened myself up wide, the most Gryffindor thing I have ever done, and you looked right at me and saw someone else… wanted someone else, needed someone else. 

I left, I haven’t been back. I don’t know what I would do. To know that I might run into you, see you, hear about you, read about you. You permeated every thought, every action, every reaction for those three years. You were all that I did, everything that motivated me, moved me, pushed me… you were what gave me the strength to face the crowds, the courage to ask for what I wanted, the bravery to get what I deserved. 

I stepped up my game, to show you I wasn’t who you had seen when I was younger. 

My game, wasn’t enough. It never would be. You never could see me for me… you see me and think of her, you see me and you feel anger for him. 

I left that night. Occasionally I will write to them. Let them know I am okay, let them know that I am alive. Allow an errant photo to be taken, and allow it to find it’s way back to the bloody prophet. I will allow them to know that I live, but I wont ever allow anyone to know that I loved. 

I live. But I don’t survive. 

I am so abused. My heart, my soul, both torn so much, cut so deep, piercings as far as the wounds are able to handle. I breathe every day and remember that it might be my last.

I forget sometimes that I am someone special. I don’t want to be. I just wanted to be needed, I never wanted to be important. I never wanted all the fame. I just wanted family. I just wanted to be loved. I just wanted to be wanted. 

Who knew all that shit was inside me? When I went back after the war… all that talent, that intelligence, that power… just hovering under the surface. As if waiting for the black dot that was the dark lord, to be expunged before I could come to the actualization that I am someone. I am someone.

I am me. 

You never saw that though. 

How is it to know that you see the ghost of a woman you loved, and a man you hated… in the body of the same person that people see as a hero? How does that work Severus?

Fuck. I haven’t thought your name in a while. Must be the molly… 

These muggles, they come up with the best concoctions. They make the best drugs, in little pills. No potions for me. I don’t need to be drugged like a wizard. My core clears the drugs too quick as it is. 

I don’t know the last time I was sober. This time every year, it creeps up and then it’s here. And I make sure that I get through. It’s like I can still fucking taste you. Taste the way the firewhiskey burned your lips, and cooled it’s way down my throat. 

I can fucking taste the anger, the need, the longing… I can still not figure out whose emotions were whose.

You are a bloody fucking idiot of a man. A brilliant wizard. A strong and capable spy. A wonder of what it takes to survive. 

But you are a fucking blind idiot of a man. 

What would it have taken to get you to see me?

I left because I didn’t know what I needed, what I wanted… I didn’t know what you wanted, what it would take for you to want me. I was too pure, to white, to clean… untarnished. 

I have been gone now for a year… a have lost count of the bodies I have been inside of. 

Muggles and magical alike.

I know the taste of a woman as she comes in my mouth, and I have felt the power of a man as I pound so deeply into him. I have been in so many situations where it took the power of a potion and a long time in a pensive to remember what I did. I have lost count of who and what I have done.

The drugs, they hurt. Sometimes they burn, as if their very existence in my body, makes my core long to push it out immediately. 

I want to make all the mistakes that prove to you that I am worthy of fucking up. Because as much as you place me on a pedestal, you hate that fucking height that you put me on. I can’t be too perfect, and not dirty enough for you. You can’t have it both ways, Severus.

I never wanted into the Potions Guild. I am sure you could have ascertained that shit. I did it to prove a point. 

You know the most fucked up shit though? 

That is the only shit that I keep up with. I have long since decided that the Auror Corp is not for me. I have done with my fair share of death. Fuck, the ghosts still haunt me in a different country. They follow me in the darkness. They shed their tears in my dreams. I haven’t been able to sleep a full night since we stopped sharing a house. A home. 

I can’t believe I tried to make a home with you. But I got in that fucking Guild. 

They allow me to apprentice from a distance. Some of the fame is put to good use. 

I came up with a handy potion not to long ago. They are going to post about it in the Potions Quarterly that I am sure you still read. Can’t wait until you see that shit. I imagine your anger. You will think I bummed off someone. That the work wasn’t mine. 

Oh shit, the crackle of magic is coming off me right now. Thank god I left the blond back at the hotel. The countryside is beautiful at night. The drugs and the whiskey they make the night look like that painting from Van Gogh… I wonder what you see when you look at the night sky.

I know you don’t think of me anymore. Why, the fuck, would you?

You spent too long looking after me. An obligation. A reason to do what you needed to do. A reason to be so angry. I was the death of your hope. 

You said that shit to me one night just after you were released from Azkaban. You were shit drunk, you had found my liquor cabinet and had gone to town. I had come home, and there you were, laying on the couch in the study. The picture of my mother and father torn in two, and my father on the floor. 

You looked me dead in the eye that night. Told me how much I could never stand up to her name. How the mere idea of me in the world, made you wish that you had died that night in the shack.

You know just the words to say to someone to remind them that they are human. You didn’t hear my tears that night. You were too lost in your own. Your drunken stupor took you quickly that night. But the ghost of my mother visited me until I drowned myself in the sweat that I could, running… always running. 

They find you though. The ghosts… they never leave. They don’t give up. 

Fuck you. I have always wanted just one thing from you. Long before I wanted you physically as a man wants a man, long before I knew what it was like to lust after you, long before I knew what it was like to seek your love… I wanted your respect.

I still do. 

Fuck if I know why.

But I need it. I need your respect.

The rest of the world. They wont ever respect me for me. 

Yours would mean something. 

Though at this point I don’t know what.

All I know… shit. All I know is that this drug feels good, my skin is sensitive, the breeze touching me so softly. 

I think I will close my eyes. Paris from the countryside, is so fucking soothing. 

Think of me tonight, Severus. 

I’ll be drowning in thoughts of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. 
> 
> Hope you liked.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always always always appreciated. 
> 
> xx,
> 
> Jacks


End file.
